Monaco to Corsica
During our evening in Monaco we went to plan our trip to Cinque Terra and saw a little exclamation point symbol in Google Maps- the Italians were on a rail strike, and the railroad is the only reliable way into Cinque Terra. The planned strike was occurring the exact day we were planning to travel there. What a huge party foul, but at least it was quite polite of the railworkers to schedule in their strikes. We needed a new plan, and zooming out in Google Maps we noticed an island with a ferry route to it.
Corsica.
Let's do it.
So we make a plan to take the morning train from Monaco to Nice, then we'll hop off the train at Le Port and make a run for the ferry. We didn't know what we would do in Corsica, mind you, or have a plan on how we'd make it from Corsica to Italy in two days for our international flight home. But those were minor details, we were Corsica bound.
Just like The Hotness (what I call Kendra, TH for short) said in her blog post on Monaco, we made a run through the rain to get a passport stamp at the tourist office and check out a famous stretch of the formula one course- the Fairmont Hairpin curve. After getting changed in our hotel, we made our way down to Monaco's nice train station.
After waiting in the train station with a latte for me and an orange soda for TH, we took the short 30min-ish trip into Nice Riquier. We were slogging through the rain now with a significant thunderstorm in full effect. We stopped to try to pick up pastries but our card was declined and embarrassingly we had to hand them back. Devastated.
We kept slogging through to the ferry station. Unbeknownst to us, when they say get to the port 30min before the ferry at the latest, they really mean it! When we squished up in our wet clothes we found the ferry was practically pulling away from the dock and the attendants were shouting at us like a SWAT team rescuing hostages to spring on board. They actually grabbed our bags and ran ahead of us! With a flying leap we made it onto the ferry and we were off to Corsica.
We decompressed with a beer and a nice Italian-style pizza from a ferry restaurant as we let the PTSD from our traumatic ferry boarding wash away. After an uncomfortable 5 hours lying awkwardly in a lounge, we made it! We were in Corsica.
Now...what to do?
Bastia
Bastia is the second largest city in Corsica and it's main commercial and port city. Corsica itself, to an American, is kind of like France's Puerto Rico; a part of the country but proudly of its own heritage. Corsica was interestingly part of the Republic of Genoa at one point and under Italian occupation during World War 2, so there's a very pleasant intersection of French and Italian culture on the island, though it certainly has an identity all its own.
We took photos of the beautiful harbor that frames your view as you arrive. We then walked the kilometer or so to our hotel, Le Forum, which though modest had wonderful proprietors that were more than gracious in introducing us to the island and giving us detailed recommendations on where to go for dinner. We walked down through the harbor and up the Grand Staircase (a favorite photo spot for the locals) up toward the citadel. Most strikingly, especially coming from places like Monaco and Villefranche Sur Mer, the harbor almost looked to be in disrepair with many of the facades around the harbor heavily weathered. This was actually part of the charm of Corsica; they didn't cater to tourists or travelers.
Walking past a pastry shop we naturally went in and bough millfoils and macarons. We stopped in a park overlooking the expansive coastline and munched on the exquisitely delicate french pastries. Most striking about Corsica is actually it's natural features- the island is ribbed by tall mountains and part of the adventure of coming here lies in the opportunity for trekking, mtn biking, and visiting remote beaches.
We found our way through the Citadel to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the harbor - Le Perchoir. We ordered rose, and I had a seared fish with vegetables while Kendra had a tasty chicken dish. Swallows flew all around the citadel as night fell on the harbor and the Church Saint Jean Baptiste grew in prominence as it became illuminated in light. Heading back to our hotel through the harbor, we came across an impromptu dance troop of mostly older Corsicans holding what was effectively the worlds most charming and adorable dance party- doing a tango/waltz throughout the square. We stopped to stuff our faces with millfoil while we took in the charming display of fun.
Heading back to our hotel, we planned out our options. Unfortunately, Corsica does not have a very developed public transit system so you're limited by renting a car or using one of the few bus lines. We only had a day though, and we had to make the most of it, and we had to figure out how we were going to get back to Italy! Against the odds, we found a night cabin on a ferry back to Genoa the next night. What a huge win! We slammed in our credit card info to secure the spot and then fell asleep knowing that the plan we had for the next day maybe, just maybe, would work. We were going to rent a car (not sure where), drive across the island over the mtns (we took screenshots of Google Maps), rent a spot on a boat (if they had space and we found it) and then arrive by boat at paradise on earth- either Plage de Loto or Plage de Salaccio; two beaches framed by ethereal turquoise waters and the Corsican desert.
Saint Florent and Plage de Loto
We did not get off to a flying start. We failed to change any of our USD to Euros (apparently that's not a thing in Corsica; the lady at the bank acted like it was the most absurd notion), and then we got sugary pastries for breakfast but have finally, finally, managed to get burnt out on breakfast pastries. And by 'we' I mean 'TH' cause I love breakfast pastries. Then we found Hertz and waited in a line of literally 3 people but the lady at Hertz was so slow and we were burning so much daylight waiting we actually bounced to another rental car company but they were out. We tried the tourist station for bus info and they were super helpful but the bus for Saint Florent left at 11am and returned at 4pm, far too little time to visit a remote beach. Bollocks! Back to Hertz and we finally got a rental car- a deep cherry red Peugeot that I will henceforth refer to as Francois.
We threw our stuff in Francois. The rental car was in my name so I hopped in the driver seat and whoah! Francois is a manual. No worries; our old VW bug was a manual and I drove a manual pickup all around Thailand, but it'd been a few years and we were driving in Corsica through the mountains. I was excited and a little intimidate. I had the #Don'tCrackUnderPressure ad from Red Bull motorsports in my mind as we got ready.
I threw Francois into 1st gear and were off. Driving through town and then up into the mountains, we made our way past some road constructiononly stalling the car once without any incidents of course and were then slicing through the mountain switchbacks. Francois made short work of the twisty road which took us through the charming village of Santa Maria. TH raged against the dying of the light as the best lighting for photographs was currently in full display but we had to make it into Saint Florent.
Arriving in town we didn't really know where to go, so we headed toward the harbor and got stuck in the tight alleyways lined with tourists. We Jason Bourne'd Francois through the narrow alleys and up a dirt road, parking by the citadel. After a little wandering through the harbor found the boat service, Popeye, and got two tickers for Loto beach. It seemed like both Loto and Saleccia were ideal places to stay, but the decision was made for us given that Loto had space and Saleccia didn't. We had 45min to cool and got some great photos of the Citadel along the waterfront, and picked up a water bottle and baguette.
We were both pretty excited as we hopped on the boat out to Loto. Soon we were outside of the harbor and flying along the coarse; the desert landscape reminding me of pictures I'd seen of Greece. The water was stunning and the brightest blue I'd seen; even Thailand's Maya beach and Aruba didn't compare.
Pulling into dock at Loto we were thrilled. Is this real life?! The gorgeous beach formed a gentle crescent arc and we walked through the powder soft sand to the far end where there was a bit more room. We found a blank space between a nice family and a group of beautiful young women who TH noticed were topless, I must've missed it somehow.
The next 5 hours flew by as we lounged on the soft sand and waded into the shallow surf. The water was perfectly chilled, perfectly clear, and it was surreal to be able to play around in it together. I went back out for an open water swim and noticed several jellyfish; they were actually quite beautiful in a striking red in color. Floating next to them I was slightly entranced, they were like nature's lava lamps floating around. I'd later pontificate if a group of jellies is called a jam.
The boat eventually arrived to take us back to Saint Florent and there was weeping and gnashing of teeth. Our romantic moment to take in the surroundings degenerated into a mutual toddler-esque fit of 'I don't want to go, you can't make me.' But make us they could, and we hopped into the boat. Interestingly on the ride back we saw an ultralight aircraft some enterprising and potentially suicidal Corsican made out of a hang-glider and a zodiac. No joke. I was like, "I want to be friends with that person."
During our evening in Monaco we went to plan our trip to Cinque Terra and saw a little exclamation point symbol in Google Maps- the Italians were on a rail strike, and the railroad is the only reliable way into Cinque Terra. The planned strike was occurring the exact day we were planning to travel there. What a huge party foul, but at least it was quite polite of the railworkers to schedule in their strikes. We needed a new plan, and zooming out in Google Maps we noticed an island with a ferry route to it.
Corsica.
Let's do it.
So we make a plan to take the morning train from Monaco to Nice, then we'll hop off the train at Le Port and make a run for the ferry. We didn't know what we would do in Corsica, mind you, or have a plan on how we'd make it from Corsica to Italy in two days for our international flight home. But those were minor details, we were Corsica bound.
Just like The Hotness (what I call Kendra, TH for short) said in her blog post on Monaco, we made a run through the rain to get a passport stamp at the tourist office and check out a famous stretch of the formula one course- the Fairmont Hairpin curve. After getting changed in our hotel, we made our way down to Monaco's nice train station.
After waiting in the train station with a latte for me and an orange soda for TH, we took the short 30min-ish trip into Nice Riquier. We were slogging through the rain now with a significant thunderstorm in full effect. We stopped to try to pick up pastries but our card was declined and embarrassingly we had to hand them back. Devastated.
We kept slogging through to the ferry station. Unbeknownst to us, when they say get to the port 30min before the ferry at the latest, they really mean it! When we squished up in our wet clothes we found the ferry was practically pulling away from the dock and the attendants were shouting at us like a SWAT team rescuing hostages to spring on board. They actually grabbed our bags and ran ahead of us! With a flying leap we made it onto the ferry and we were off to Corsica.
We decompressed with a beer and a nice Italian-style pizza from a ferry restaurant as we let the PTSD from our traumatic ferry boarding wash away. After an uncomfortable 5 hours lying awkwardly in a lounge, we made it! We were in Corsica.
Now...what to do?
Bastia
Bastia is the second largest city in Corsica and it's main commercial and port city. Corsica itself, to an American, is kind of like France's Puerto Rico; a part of the country but proudly of its own heritage. Corsica was interestingly part of the Republic of Genoa at one point and under Italian occupation during World War 2, so there's a very pleasant intersection of French and Italian culture on the island, though it certainly has an identity all its own.
We took photos of the beautiful harbor that frames your view as you arrive. We then walked the kilometer or so to our hotel, Le Forum, which though modest had wonderful proprietors that were more than gracious in introducing us to the island and giving us detailed recommendations on where to go for dinner. We walked down through the harbor and up the Grand Staircase (a favorite photo spot for the locals) up toward the citadel. Most strikingly, especially coming from places like Monaco and Villefranche Sur Mer, the harbor almost looked to be in disrepair with many of the facades around the harbor heavily weathered. This was actually part of the charm of Corsica; they didn't cater to tourists or travelers.
Walking past a pastry shop we naturally went in and bough millfoils and macarons. We stopped in a park overlooking the expansive coastline and munched on the exquisitely delicate french pastries. Most striking about Corsica is actually it's natural features- the island is ribbed by tall mountains and part of the adventure of coming here lies in the opportunity for trekking, mtn biking, and visiting remote beaches.
We found our way through the Citadel to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the harbor - Le Perchoir. We ordered rose, and I had a seared fish with vegetables while Kendra had a tasty chicken dish. Swallows flew all around the citadel as night fell on the harbor and the Church Saint Jean Baptiste grew in prominence as it became illuminated in light. Heading back to our hotel through the harbor, we came across an impromptu dance troop of mostly older Corsicans holding what was effectively the worlds most charming and adorable dance party- doing a tango/waltz throughout the square. We stopped to stuff our faces with millfoil while we took in the charming display of fun.
Heading back to our hotel, we planned out our options. Unfortunately, Corsica does not have a very developed public transit system so you're limited by renting a car or using one of the few bus lines. We only had a day though, and we had to make the most of it, and we had to figure out how we were going to get back to Italy! Against the odds, we found a night cabin on a ferry back to Genoa the next night. What a huge win! We slammed in our credit card info to secure the spot and then fell asleep knowing that the plan we had for the next day maybe, just maybe, would work. We were going to rent a car (not sure where), drive across the island over the mtns (we took screenshots of Google Maps), rent a spot on a boat (if they had space and we found it) and then arrive by boat at paradise on earth- either Plage de Loto or Plage de Salaccio; two beaches framed by ethereal turquoise waters and the Corsican desert.
Saint Florent and Plage de Loto
We did not get off to a flying start. We failed to change any of our USD to Euros (apparently that's not a thing in Corsica; the lady at the bank acted like it was the most absurd notion), and then we got sugary pastries for breakfast but have finally, finally, managed to get burnt out on breakfast pastries. And by 'we' I mean 'TH' cause I love breakfast pastries. Then we found Hertz and waited in a line of literally 3 people but the lady at Hertz was so slow and we were burning so much daylight waiting we actually bounced to another rental car company but they were out. We tried the tourist station for bus info and they were super helpful but the bus for Saint Florent left at 11am and returned at 4pm, far too little time to visit a remote beach. Bollocks! Back to Hertz and we finally got a rental car- a deep cherry red Peugeot that I will henceforth refer to as Francois.
We threw our stuff in Francois. The rental car was in my name so I hopped in the driver seat and whoah! Francois is a manual. No worries; our old VW bug was a manual and I drove a manual pickup all around Thailand, but it'd been a few years and we were driving in Corsica through the mountains. I was excited and a little intimidate. I had the #Don'tCrackUnderPressure ad from Red Bull motorsports in my mind as we got ready.
I threw Francois into 1st gear and were off. Driving through town and then up into the mountains, we made our way past some road construction
Arriving in town we didn't really know where to go, so we headed toward the harbor and got stuck in the tight alleyways lined with tourists. We Jason Bourne'd Francois through the narrow alleys and up a dirt road, parking by the citadel. After a little wandering through the harbor found the boat service, Popeye, and got two tickers for Loto beach. It seemed like both Loto and Saleccia were ideal places to stay, but the decision was made for us given that Loto had space and Saleccia didn't. We had 45min to cool and got some great photos of the Citadel along the waterfront, and picked up a water bottle and baguette.
We were both pretty excited as we hopped on the boat out to Loto. Soon we were outside of the harbor and flying along the coarse; the desert landscape reminding me of pictures I'd seen of Greece. The water was stunning and the brightest blue I'd seen; even Thailand's Maya beach and Aruba didn't compare.
Pulling into dock at Loto we were thrilled. Is this real life?! The gorgeous beach formed a gentle crescent arc and we walked through the powder soft sand to the far end where there was a bit more room. We found a blank space between a nice family and a group of beautiful young women who TH noticed were topless, I must've missed it somehow.
The next 5 hours flew by as we lounged on the soft sand and waded into the shallow surf. The water was perfectly chilled, perfectly clear, and it was surreal to be able to play around in it together. I went back out for an open water swim and noticed several jellyfish; they were actually quite beautiful in a striking red in color. Floating next to them I was slightly entranced, they were like nature's lava lamps floating around. I'd later pontificate if a group of jellies is called a jam.
The boat eventually arrived to take us back to Saint Florent and there was weeping and gnashing of teeth. Our romantic moment to take in the surroundings degenerated into a mutual toddler-esque fit of 'I don't want to go, you can't make me.' But make us they could, and we hopped into the boat. Interestingly on the ride back we saw an ultralight aircraft some enterprising and potentially suicidal Corsican made out of a hang-glider and a zodiac. No joke. I was like, "I want to be friends with that person."
Back to Francois and back to Bastia over the mountains. We dropped him off with Hertz (Au revoir cher ami, je me souviendrai toujours de toi ), picked up our bags from Hotel Le Forum, and had a lovely meal at Palais des Glaces along the city plaza (highly recommended, they were very kind to expedite our meal). We ordered a bottle of wine and even ventured to ask to take it with us in a genius move by TH. After a long hike (panic stricken due to our aforementioned PTSD from our Nice ferry boarding) we made it onto the ferry. Dropping off our luggage in our room, we drank our wine and ate chocolate cake as we watched Bastia slip away in the sunset.
On to Genoa.
On to Genoa.
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